If you're asking I can't say no
by Twitched
Summary: It isn't right, what they do, but it can't end. They can't make it stop.


It begins with tears, as many things do. With tears from sorrow so deep they just can't stop, ones that fall so hard that the woman crying can't even make noise anymore.

It begins, simply, with Snow White mourning the death of her husband, lost to Neverland's poison, and Killian Jones trying to comfort her.

Comfort that turns to a kiss, one that in turn becomes a frantic effort to get rid of clothing.

The first time Snow and Killian have sex it's in his cabin in the Jolly Roger while she can't stop crying, as his hand digs marks into her hip and she clings to him like he's the only thing keeping her steady.

It's the first time, but it's not the last.

* * *

Once in his ship in an act of comfort becomes twice – against the bars in the Sheriff's station -, three times – frantically on the couch in her apartment – and quickly turns to over half a dozen times when Regina casts her curse again and sends them all home.

Home to a land where Snow lived with her husband, where the King is now dead leaving behind a desolate Queen.

It's hidden and secret, no one can know. No one says a word.

He's sure the wolf knows purely from the looks that Red gives him some days.

Regina may have a guess, but if she does she never voices it.

It's hidden because it shouldn't be a thing. It shouldn't be happening.

Snow's in mourning, he's taking advantage of her, he must be. There's no way around it.

He knows what he's doing with each kiss, each time he pins her against the wall, hand making it's way under her clothes until she's begging for him; for more, faster, rougher, **now**.

With each mark he leaves on her skin Killian knows this won't do anything to help her but he can't stop.

He tries only once, ignores her comments and suggestions, staying in his own room and staying as far from her as he can without making it obvious he's avoiding her.

A week goes by before he's cornered by her, pulled into a desperate kiss that's nearly as needy as the first one.

* * *

Two months into their return to the Enchanted forest he finds out Snow's pregnant.

She doesn't tell him, not directly, nor does she announce it to everyone just yet.

He finds out second hand through drunken revelry from the Dwarves.

_'One last gift from Prince Charming!'_

It nearly makes his heart stop, his stomach fill with ice.

Pregnant.

Just over two months since their first time.

Just over two months since Charming's death.

Either one of them could be the father.

It's a thought that makes him sick with fear but also gives him a little joy.

He could be a father.

* * *

He asks about it, just once.

While they're laying together on the bed that Snow had once shared with her husband, a memory now defiled.

His hand resting on her bare stomach, he can only just force himself to meet her eyes. "Is it mine?"

The anger is instantaneous and the pure rage in her eyes scares him.

"It's Charming's," She snarls, slapping his hand away hard and sitting up, grabbing the sheet to cover herself.

"Okay."

"It is! I would never have your baby," Snow's voice is venomous and it's only the hurt and fear he can hear behind it that keeps him from being hurt, "This baby is my husbands. My True Loves."

"Okay." Killian just nods. It's not worth arguing, not worth questioning it more.

Even if it's his, it isn't.

So when she storms off leaving him aching and alone he sends a prayer to every God he can think of in as many religions as he can remember, hoping for blue eyes and blond hair.

* * *

It's nearly a week before Snow seeks him out again.

This time it's her that leaves marks on his skin. Bruises from fingers, scratches along his back, one particularly telling bite mark on his collar that means he has to wear a normal shirt for days.

It's almost violent, definitely possessive, and for the first time Snow stays with him overnight after she cries herself to sleep, face hidden against his neck.

He doesn't dare touch her stomach or make any motions towards it.

It can't be his baby.

This isn't right.

Once the baby is born he doesn't see Snow or the infant for two weeks. She stays in seclusion in her rooms, only a handful of people go in; he's not one of those allowed in.

Again he prays, desperately wishing for blond hair, blue eyes.

Charming's features.

The first time Killian sees Snow's son it's from a distance. The boy is just a tiny peach blur bundled in a thick wool blanket cuddled close to the Queen.

He forces himself to look away whenever he thinks someone may see him watching.

It wouldn't do to be caught staring at the Queen or her son.

Killian has to leave when Snow moves, adjusting the baby, and he catches a glimpse of dark fuzz covering the infants head.

* * *

It doesn't end.

Not with the birth of a baby.

Not with changing realms and returning to where it all began.

When another curse breaks.

It doesn't even end when he kisses Emma.

When a kiss turns to more, much more.

* * *

Emma knows. He's sure of it.

There's only so many times he can lie about bruises, marks that are obviously from nails or teeth.

Only so many lies he can come up with.

Emma knows, he's sure, but he's also sure she doesn't want to know.

After a time she doesn't ask about marks on his skin.

She faults herself for her Father's death. For not finding some way to save him.

Killian knows just how much it hurts her every day. Even with a family still, with her mother, her son and new baby brother, it hurts beyond anything.

He knows how that feels.

Both lost a close relative, one who collapsed and died in front of them.

Going to Neverland to save her son cost her mother her True Love.

It's only right she shares her happy ending.

So she doesn't ask when she finds a hickey on his hip, doesn't question him when she catches him watching Snow. Never wonders aloud if he's connected to her brother, though he can see the question in her eyes at times.

Every time he comes home she makes him shower, anytime they're together she makes him use protection.

But she doesn't acknowledge where he goes, what he gets up to.

Snow is still somehow her best friend.

He isn't sure if they talk about it but he both hopes and fears they do.

* * *

He can't stop, not so long as Snow needs him.

So long as she has a use for him he can't say 'no'.

Not when all it takes is a quirk of her finger, the right look, to make him come running.

Even if sometimes he comes running straight from Emma's bed.


End file.
